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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27361366">ache</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialtrans/pseuds/celestialtrans'>celestialtrans</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>League of Legends</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Chronic Pain, Domestic, M/M, One Shot, Past Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Short, Trauma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 03:08:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>452</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27361366</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialtrans/pseuds/celestialtrans</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Viktor’s arm is heavy around his neck, warm despite his shivering, and Jayce doesn’t flinch at the nails biting into his shoulder. Only presses a kiss to his temple, another to his hair, and pulls the pillows upright to the headboard.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jayce/Viktor (League of Legends)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>ache</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>[gentle breakdancing] no more hiatus </p>
<p>this is old asf but i have hope that theres other ppl out there living in my world where these two arent miserable</p>
<p>criminally short (just like me) but tender (also me). slapped the mature rating on there bc ptsd tingz</p>
<p>enjoy or else</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jayce wakes to the mattress shifting, sheets sliding against one another, the barest brush of metal against his thigh. Dawn bleeds through the curtains, reds and oranges filling the cold corners of the room and he lifts a hand to rub at his blurry eyes, tearing in the morning’s sudden light. He can see snow swirling through the gaps, feel the bitter chill in the air.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    It’s almost thoughtless. There’s matches in armsreach, at the far edge of the bedside table—he takes two—and there’s balm to mirror the book, sitting closest to him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    He stands, snaps the matches against the mantle. The scrape of brick is sharp in the quiet, giving way to the dry crackle of wood as it begins to burn in earnest, warmth rolling off of it in thick waves. Jayce nudges the screen closed, closes his eyes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>    (Burning, the acrid smell of flesh and hair alight.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Careful, he sits on the edge of the bed and holds the second match to each scorched wick. They take a moment to catch, coated in ash and settled deep in the candle, but the wax warms and the scent chases those errant thoughts. He sets it back on the nightstand, and opens the drawer as he’s leaning. Polish, grease, oil, rags, old shirts.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Viktor’s arm is heavy around his neck, warm despite his shivering, and Jayce doesn’t flinch at the nails biting into his shoulder. Only presses a kiss to his temple, another to his hair, and pulls the pillows upright to the headboard. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>    He starts at Viktor’s shoulder, as he always does. The balm is stubborn, hardened in the lingering cold, but he’s patient and works the heel of his hand over his fingertips steadily. More kisses litter the cut of his cheekbones, low arch of his brow, and Viktor leans into him a little. He tenses at the first touch of Jayce’s palm to his collar. Again, he wraps his arm around Jayce’s shoulders and squeezes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Seconds trickle into minutes, bleeding to the hour. The sun rises, snow melts on the windowsill, and Jayce works in silence punctuated by their mismatched breaths. Viktor rests his head on Jayce’s shoulder at some point, and he never bothers to pull away. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Tears seep cold into his shirt when he moves to Viktor’s knee. He hesitates, throat thickening and jaw trembling. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>    (Sobs that stole his breath. Hoarse cries for help, for death, for Jayce.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>    He unwinds his arm from around Jayce and curls his fingers in the cradles between each of his knuckles. Rotating his wrist, carefully guiding their joined hands to smooth down the scarred expanse of his thigh, slowing where metal meets his flesh and they begin again.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>say words about viktor to me and i will crumble </p>
<p>do not leave me constructive criticism. do not post my works to fic recommendation lists or blogs. do not repost or share my works on other sites.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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